Untitled Beardporn

Pairing/Characters: Adrian Pasdar/Milo Ventimiglia
Word Count: ~2400
Rating: NC-17
Summary: The Skeevy 70s Porn AU. This is the beard that inspired it all.
Word Count: 2400
Warnings: If you have a very, and I mean very, sensitive consent barometer, this may not be your cup of tea as there is some coercion.


"There's one special thing about me," said Milo to the mirror. No, no, he heard Dirk Diggler used that line; that was played. "Hi, I'm Milo, I'm your new star."

It was dumb, but that's what he went with to the bubbly blonde receptionist at the studio. She looked like she could be in one of the movies, all feathered hair and candy-pink lipstick.

"Joanne, get back in the dressing room," barked a large, loud woman with horn-rimmed classes and iron gray hair. "Dean needs to be perked up before his next scene." To Milo she said, "State your business."

"Um, I'm your new star?"

"Hmph," she said, her chest heaving and settling as she made the sound. Milo watched, transfixed. "You want to audition?"

"Yeah—I mean yes."

"Let me call Mr. Pasdar, find out if he's seeing anyone." She spun dial of the phone with the end of her pencil. Milo listened shamelessly to her end of the conversation. "Kid to see you," she said. "Yes." Pause. "Yes." Long pause, as she looked Milo up and down. She raised an eyebrow when she got to his sneakers—brick red—then looked back up, her gaze settling at about belt level. "Yes, I think so. You'll need to check to be sure."

She hung up the phone and pushed her glasses up her nose with one red-lacquered fingernail. "He'll see you this evening. He likes to meet the . . . stars." She scribbled an address on a scrap of paper and slid it across the desk to him.

Milo walked out toward La Cienega until he got to a burger and shake shack. He ordered something big and sweet and cold and sat at the picnic table in the parking lot until his hands and lips were sticky with the melted ice cream, and the heat made him drowsy.

He left his bench too early and walked to the address the receptionist had given him. It was a large white house with pillars framing the door a few blocks back from the studio. Milo looked at himself in the reflection from the windows framing the door. He couldn't see if the ice cream had left a mark around his mouth.

A maid answered the door when Milo rung the bell—or maybe an actress. Milo didn't care to guess anymore. Her skirt was short and puffed out over stiff white petticoats, and she showed a lot of cleavage over the top of her white blouse.

"Hi," he said, trying to pitch his voice low. "I'm here to see Mr. Pasdar."

"Adrian," she called out, in a French accent that Milo thought had to be fake. "One of your boys here to see you."

Milo tried not to bristle at being called a boy; he wasn't hired yet. Some indefinable growl came out of the depths of the house.

"Okay, I bring him," the maid called out.

Milo followed her through the house, watching her teeter on her heels as she walked. Her stockings had seams up the back, and he could see the tops of her garters exposed as her hips shifted.

The room she showed him into had recessed lighting. Part of the floor was covered in a gold-toned linoleum and over that lay a white fur from no animal Milo could identify. What had six legs and fur like that? The carpet in the rest of the room was white, a thick, uneven shag.

He looked up and saw a man sitting on one of the zebra-striped couches. He wore a dark brocade bathrobe open over a chest with hair that would make Burt Reynolds jealous.

"Um, hi," said Milo. "I'm Milo Ventimiglia."

The man stood up. He looked slightly taller than Milo, but slimmer, and he had a big, dark beard. Milo glanced at the rest of him but could barely look away from the beard. It was thicker than the carpet; it looked like you could lose fingers in it. "My name is Adrian Pasdar," he said, smiling and showing teeth that looked and even brighter white than the carpet against the dark of his beard. "So you want a job?"

"Yeah, I think I'd be good at porn—I mean adult. The kind of films you make, I'd be good at that."

"Oh?" Pasdar had a voice that rasped and scratched at Milo's nerves. He didn't mind it, not quite, but it didn't make him comfortable.

"Yeah. See, I've got—," Milo dropped his voice to a whisper, "kind of a big dick."

Pasdar widened his eyes and raised his eyebrows. "Let me see."

"What, right now?"

Pasdar nodded. The beard nodded with him. Milo started undoing his belt when Pasdar held up his hand. "Slowly," he said. "Shirt first."

Milo untucked his shirt and undid the top button. "Like this, Mr. Pasdar?"

Pasdar nodded again. "Call me Adrian." Milo undid the next button and then the next, stealing glances at Adrian. He had one leg crossed over the other and his arms stretched out along the top of the couch, drumming his fingers on the fabric.

"Yes," said Adrian. "Take it off." Milo tugged it off his shoulders. "Very nice. You work out?"

Milo shrugged. "Yeah, I play soccer sometimes. Do you want me to . . . ?" He gestured at his pants. Adrian nodded a third time.

Milo undid his belt and fly, and started to push down his pants when something told him he should draw this out, make it theatrical. For whatever reason, Adrian wanted to watch. Milo pushed the top of his pants over his ass so they tugged down his underwear, then waited until Adrian's mouth opened slightly before pushing it down the rest of the way. He turned so his dick was hidden until he'd kicked the pants off, and then turned back for the reveal.

Adrian started at him for a long moment. Milo balls clenched and drew up in fear. He was sure he'd never looked smaller, and he wouldn't get this, and he'd have to go back to fucking Utah when Adrian stood up.

"This is what you're showing me?"

"Yes, this is what I got." Milo looked at him defiantly. Yes, this was it.

"It gets bigger, doesn't it?" said Adrian.

"Of course."

"Show me."

"You mean . . ."

"I mean . . . yes. Touch yourself."

Adrian was close enough to be disconcerting, but still further away than arm's length. Milo reached down and gave his dick some half-hearted tugs. It wouldn't respond; this situation was too strange. The room smelled like something that tingled at his memory, his high school girlfriend before she ran away. Incense—that was it, but not her patchouli, something muskier, like dark wine and animal in heat.

"I don't think you're doing it right," said Adrian. His voice took on a silky edge. A hint of sarcasm, maybe? It made Milo even more nervous. He crossed the distance between them and before Milo could muster anything but a muffled shriek of outrage, he covered Milo's mouth with one hand and wrapped the other around Milo's dick.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Milo asked when Adrian took the hand on Milo's mouth away.

"I have to see what you look like before I can give you job," he said. His hand was still firm on Milo's dick. Milo felt himself relaxing; it was a warm strong hand, rubbing just right, and as his dick got hard, Milo's legs went weak. Adrian opened his hand, so Milo's dick just rested on it. He looked down. "That is impressive."

Milo jumped back. "Okay, then, do I get the job?"

Adrian pressed his thumb and forefinger to the sides of his mouth, as if he was hiding a smile, but Milo couldn't tell in the low light, under all that beard. "I still have other things to see."

Milo suppressed his excitement. This would be where he got to fuck a porn star, so Adrian could see how he performed. He'd be good. His last girlfriend said he had an ass she could bounce quarters off it . . . of course she also wanted to join a commune in the Haight-Ashbury and everyone knew that was over, so maybe she wasn't the best source of information. But still. Good ass, good dick. He was set.

"Lie down on the rug," said Adrian, indicating the improbable animal skin on the floor. Milo lay down. The fibers squeaked together under his hands. Milo thought of joking about never having seen the skin of a Polyester before, but thought better of it.

Adrian lay down next to him, the edges of his robe flopping open to reveal even more chest hair. He settled with his head at the level of Milo's waist and drew his finger up the inside of Milo's thigh.

"I want to see what you look like when you come."

"What about—?"

Adrian put his finger to Milo's lips, silencing him. He moved his head so his beard rubbed against Milo's inner thigh, soft as sin. It shouldn't have been a turn-on, it just shouldn't. Milo was here for the girls.

But his dick twitched in anticipation of Adrian's beard gliding along its skin and then it was. Beard and lips and tongue, and holy shit, Adrian was sucking him down. His tongue knew its business, keeping up a firm pressure up and down the shaft. His beard brushed the insides of Milo's legs at the bottom of his stroke. He drew his lips up almost to the tip so Milo's cock popped out, then sucked it back in. Adrian's eyes were closed, and he made a happy humming noise in the back of his throat that Milo could feel in his stomach.

He didn't speed up at all, so Milo wasn't in any danger of coming, had plenty of time to think about this, that he was getting his dick sucked by a porn director with a lumberjack beard, and he liked it. Adrian rolled Milo's balls gently between his thumb and forefinger. It felt good; Adrian knew just how much pressure to use.

Milo was pushing his hips up to get more of his dick into Adrian's mouth, when Adrian's finger went behind Milo's balls, and pressed the skin behind. It surprised Milo but it made his dick jump in a good way, so he got used to that. It was almost like the pressure was coming from inside his dick, to match the pressure from Adrian's mouth. He wondered if any of the studio's girls could suck cock like this. Probably so.

Adrian finger slipped just a bit further, until it was brushing the edge of Milo's asshole on the down stroke and he started to get nervous. "Hey, you're not going to . . . hey," he yelled as Adrian's finger penetrated him.

"I didn't think this was gay porn," he said.

Adrian let Milo's dick out of his mouth and gave him a look. "A little late to worry about that, hmmmm?"

Milo's ass relaxed around Adrian's finger, and even as Milo prepared to get away, make Adrian stop, he started moving his finger in and out, making subtle little circles inside, and Milo's dick jumped up, begging for more.

"There are girls, right?"

"Yes," said Adrian. "In all the movies. But here . . ."

Milo wanted more of Adrian's finger, maybe even fingers inside of him, and he spread his legs more to let them in.

"You're kind of a slut, aren't you?"

Milo didn't know how to answer that, except by spreading his legs further. Adrian smiled, his grin splitting his beard, and pushed in another finger.

"Wait, you're not going to fuck me, are you?"

"Milo," said Adrian, the first time he'd used Milo's name. "No one gets to fuck in my studio without getting fucked first." His voice turned smug. "I think you'll like it."

"Who fucked you?"

But Adrian didn't answer Milo; his mouth was back around Milo's dick, sucking in earnest this time, tugging and orgasm out of him from both ends, making him come until he saw stars.

Adrian pulled his hand out after Milo came, and shrugged out of his bathrobe. He wasn't wearing anything underneath. He took a bottle of coconut oil out of the pocket of the robe and slathered it over his cock. It was a very respectable size, if not quite as big as Milo's own. Milo wondered if he'd gotten his start on the other side of the camera. Maybe so, before he'd grown that beard.

He pulled Milo's legs up to his shoulders. Milo felt like Playdoh in his hands. Part him thought maybe he should be objecting, but he wanted the job, and he really really really wanted to know what it would feel like. Adrian put the tip of his cock against Milo's entrance and pushed in until Milo could feel Adrian's balls against his ass. It felt huge, but good; if this is what it felt like for girls, Milo wondered why they weren't all lined up outside Adrian's studio for a chance at a big cock up inside him.

Adrian moved in and out, holding onto Milo's legs for leverage. His beard tickled Milo's ankles. "Touch yourself," he said. This time Milo had no trouble obeying. He timed his strokes to the motion of Adrian's cock in his ass. He watched Adrian's eyes frown, in concentration, the expression of his mouth lost in his beard. His hair fell in a sweaty comma over his forehead.

Adrian's cock hit something inside that made Milo groan with every stroke. Milo sped up his hand on his cock and came right before Adrian did, spilling over his hand as Adrian grunted and pushed in one final time.

"So, girls next time?" Milo asked after Adrian pulled out and lay down on the fake fur rug. With the robe off his beard made his head look too big for his body.

"Girls are for the camera. This is for me."

"Did I get the job?"

Adrian steepled his fingers, still lying on his back. "I'm not sure. I still haven't seen how you fuck."

"Let me guess. No girls involved in that either."

Adrian shook his head. Milo shrugged. He found he didn't mind that much. Adrian rolled over onto his stomach. He had a very nice ass . . .

The End.


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